


She Satisfies

by PhrancesP



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhrancesP/pseuds/PhrancesP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne Fisher cleanses her palate, and Jack Robinson swears off Italian food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Satisfies

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Kerry Greenwood for serving up Phryne Fisher, and thank you to Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries for bringing Jack Robinson to the table.

She Satisfies  
By PhrancesP

\- Phryne -

The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher soaked in the sunshine streaming through her window as she contemplated the ledgers and lists set out on her dining room table. It was a good morning to focus on domestic matters. “Thank you, Mr. Butler. As usual, you have anticipated my needs.” Her mind-reading butler set a steaming cup of coffee near her right hand and bowed slightly. “You are playing chatelaine this morning, miss?” Phryne smiled in acknowledgement. She was wearing a small pair of reading glasses, a recent acquisition. It was really becoming difficult to make out the small figures in her household accounts without them. “Every task has an appropriate costume and accessories, Mr. B. If I am to enjoy my life to the extent that I choose to, then I must be a responsible adult for a few minutes each week.” Mr. Butler left her to her work, and she dove into it with her usual precision and clarity.

Phryne worked intently for the better part of an hour. The house was quiet. Her companion Dot Williams had sailed off to church for an early morning meeting with Father Leary and her intended Constable Hugh Collins. Miss Fisher would have enjoyed being a fly on the wall for that meeting. She suspected that Dot had absorbed some modern ideas about the role of the Catholic wife that Father Leary would not condone. She closed the last ledger and finished her cooling coffee. She felt strong and independent when she managed her household responsibilities. There were people relying on her – Mr. Butler, Dot, her adopted daughter Jane, even Cec and Burt, those reliable men-of-all-work. Phryne remembered growing up hungry in Collingwood. Now she was a wealthy woman with no one to tell her how to spend her money. She was grateful that she had followed Lin’s advice to keep her money in gold bars in a safe deposit box. Phryne knew that she could gamble in the markets to increase her wealth, but she did not respect some of the other men who wanted to advise her. She chuckled to herself as she thought of Dot’s little nest egg, and how surprised Father Leary, and Hugh, would be to know of her financial efforts for her dear friend’s future. 

Phryne patted the stack of accounts as she rose from the table. She liked being a provider. She laughed as she remembered her successful shipment of Russian “caviar” to Tasmania. Phryne had paid to send Tatiana to a new life and identity. It was important to Burt. She would always support a woman alone in the world. Food, shelter, warmth, and safety - all of the things that her father should have provided. Her thoughts turned to Henry Fisher, the Baron of Richmond. He was still in Australia, she knew, because he had left most of his belongings in her attic. Phryne shrugged off her disquiet – he would turn up again when his money ran out. Until then she would not give him another thought. 

After her morning of responsible behavior she deserved some time to ponder a more interesting man – Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. She bit her lip as she considered her most recent meeting with Jack. He had chosen to describe their friendship as a waltz, but Phryne had the uneasy feeling that she had misstepped by dallying with Lyle Compton. Jack had not liked her “reminiscing” excuse, especially not when he could see that she was naked under Compton’s flight coat. Jack had eventually come around to his usual spot near her hearth, cradling a whiskey and joining her in a toast, but she worried that he would dwell on her “old friends.” Phryne considered making love with a willing partner as part of her prerogative as an independent woman. She had an appetite, and she had the means and opportunities to sate herself. This was not about love or hurt feelings. It was easy for her to defend herself when she was not looking at Jack’s pinched expression through the airfield fence. Perhaps she could tempt him with an invitation to dinner. This time she would disengage the telephone and bar the door to unwanted visitors.

The telephone rang, as if electrified by her warm thoughts. It was Dot. “Miss Fisher, I can only speak for a minute before Hugh calls the Inspector. There’s been a murder in the kitchen. At Carbone’s restaurant.”

The scene in the kitchen was horrible. Phryne thought it might be a long time before she could face tomato sauce again. There was something deeply upsetting about finding death in a room that had been a place of nourishment for so many years. The kitchen should be a refuge from the horrors of the world. Inspector Robinson and Constable Collins loomed and fumbled in the unfamiliar territory. Only Dot kept her composure. Somehow this domestic scene made a mockery of her serene morning of management. Phryne narrowed her focus to the Italian phrases flying around. She had been to Italy, of course, and had heard tales of the family feuds and factions. She could almost taste the anger in Guido Carbone’s voice as he spat out the name of his rival. “Strano’s.”

\- Jack -

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson never really knew, on any given day, where he would eat his meals. He had a kitchen of his own, of course, and his housekeeper kept his larder stocked with tempting morsels and nutritious options. Most days he joined the constables at the pie cart for his midday meal. Collins brought tea in to him each afternoon. Tea for the City South police station had improved markedly thanks to biscuits provided by Hugh’s Dottie. Jack still laughed to think about Dot’s first visit to the station as a murder suspect. They should all be grateful for her charitable and caring instincts. Evenings were a mixed bag. Lately Jack had spent more time at Strano’s. He liked to think that he was keeping a professional eye on Concetta. She could still be at risk. He had not been able to catch the man who had killed her husband. The truth was simpler. Jack liked the welcome he found when he walked in the restaurant. Concetta always told him that his table was ready for him. She poured his wine and ordered his food. She knew what he liked without having to ask. It was comfortable. 

Miss Fisher made Jack feel uncomfortable, although he had to admire her generosity and her taste in whiskey. He could not fault her hospitality either. He had lost control and had passed out at her house. She had placed him in her butler’s pajamas – possibly with her own hands – and had tucked him into bed. Jack shuddered. He wished he could shake the image of her undressing him, and he wished he could remember whether or not that had truly happened. Miss Fisher loved to make him uncomfortable with her wide eyes and her glistening lips. She made him hungry.

Jack drained the coffee from his cup and rummaged in his desk drawer for his personal stash of Dot’s biscuits. He turned to the stack of files on his desk as the telephone rang. It was not Hugh at his office door. Collins was at church with Miss Williams, he remembered. “Inspector, sir. It’s Collins on the line.” Jack’s stomach clenched in sudden fear. Something had happened to Dot, or to Phryne. “He’s down with the Italians. The Carbones this time. Someone named Nonna has been killed.”

The kitchen at Carbone’s was a disaster. Nonna Luisa had put up a fight and there was food everywhere. The smell of the tomato sauce was overpowering. Jack could feel his feet sticking to the floor. He left Collins there to take the necessary statements. Jack did not need Guido Carbone to tell him where to start his murder investigation. He was surprised to feel apologetic as he entered Strano’s. Concetta and her family knew too much about violence and death, and Nonna Luisa’s death would affect the entire Italian community. He brought bad news into one of his favorite places, a place that had nourished him, body and soul.

– Phryne -

Phryne Fisher dressed with care for her visit to Strano’s. She had not enjoyed the jealousy that had surged through her without warning as she watched Concetta smooth Jack’s overcoat across his shoulders. Phryne had seen that move before. It was something a wife would do for her husband, both possessive and proud. She reflected wryly that Concetta was lucky that she had not dared to adjust Jack’s tie. That move belonged to Phryne. The Honorable Miss Fisher entered Strano’s with the confidence of an accomplished and successful gambler. She was gracious and dignified, a queen deigning to visit the populace. Concetta was secure in her territory. The two women eyed each other. “Gianni” – Concetta had her own name for Jack. Phryne wondered if Jack spoke any Italian. German, yes, and a little French. Probably Latin. Phryne accepted a glass of wine. Concetta was speaking of Jack again. He was a regular customer. “He must like the food.” Phryne thought she had put Concetta in her place. After all, Jack had to eat somewhere. He was always hungry.

Phryne’s return to Nonna Luisa’s kitchen was less dignified. The break-in went smoothly, but the armed intruder was a surprise. Guido Carbone was a surprise, too. Nothing fired Phryne up more than danger. The kitchen was dark and intimate, and Guido sensed her mood. “You hungry? I fix you something.” Phryne responded to the invitation. “I’ve already had two dinners.” Unspoken was her need to be filled. Guido licked her neck in one of Phryne’s favorite, most sensitive spots. “It seems that you are wearing dessert. This must be what Heaven tastes like.” Phryne’s resolves crumbled. Guido cleared the table with one arm and placed her down in the center. 

–Jack -

Jack tasted the espresso and felt its warmth slide down into his core. He was amused to see Miss Fisher’s fascinated expression. Perhaps she assumed that he only drank tea and warm milk? He enjoyed her unabashed interest. It was nice to be a “never-ending source of mystery” in her eyes, after so many years of seeing Rosie’s disappointment and indifference. The scene at Strano’s had been painful. He liked Vincenzo. Jack had never been kicked out of a restaurant before. “Find some other family to feed you!” Vincenzo’s family, Concetta in particular, had provided the warmth and welcome missing in his own home. Now he and Phryne were going after a murderer, when all he wanted to do was to go home. Jack’s mind flooded with an image of the front hall of Phryne’s St. Kilda house, where his hat had its own peg. His coat, which Phryne was now stroking, had its own hook. Her hands stilled on his lapels. “Promise me you’ll be careful, too.” It was more than he expected. She had said that she would not change. She had said that she danced to no man’s tune. Jack looked down at her frivolous hat – who dressed like this for a murder investigation? – and felt protective, and proud. Guido’s father was wise. “There is no future in the past.”

– Phryne -

Phryne faced Guido across the table in the garden. In the light of day the situation was different. The food looked delicious, but she was too immersed in the investigation to be distracted by Guido’s temptation. She felt like a marathon runner, fueled by her focus and driven by her determination, as fierce as the sharpest blade in Nonna Luisa’s kitchen. Ravishing Guido would slow her down. Guido startled her with his candor. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.” Phryne almost denied it. It was the investigation that she cared about, not a man. But Guido was right. It was Jack’s investigation. She would not be satisfied until they had, together, found the truth.

– Jack -

“It all comes back to the food.” Jack reviewed the autopsy report. Nonna Luisa had been poisoned before she had been strangled. She and Papa Antonio had shared a past, and they remained bound together by the recipes and ties of the old country. And, somehow this murder – perhaps the uncertainty of life? - had given Concetta the courage to bare her heart to him. He squirmed a bit as he recalled her frank offer. “It is only you I care about.” Concetta was as bold and modern as a certain lady detective in his life. Jack tried to imagine life as Concetta’s husband. She was beautiful and caring. She would put his every need first – she had been a good Catholic wife to Fabrizio. He, on the other hand, would spend his days ignoring her family’s criminal ties and underhanded business dealings. He would be no better than Sanderson. But, there might be children. Concetta would want children, lots of them. More souls for the church. His divorce had ended his dreams of being a father. The truth was that home, when he closed his eyes, was with Phryne. He wanted his evenings to begin with her, in front of her hearth, sharing a drink and a smile. He wanted his days to begin with breakfast in her bed.

As it turned out, Jack could not lie to Concetta’s kiss. She could taste his unwillingness. He was at her table. It would be rude to reject her offer, but he could not accept it, either. “Your heart is taken.” She was right, of course. It was a bit embarrassing, but also quite a bit of a relief. To show him that she was, above all, a lady, Concetta presented him with a bottle of the house red wine. He would bring a scent of Strano’s with him as he went home.

Phryne looked strained and unhappy as he entered the parlor. He brought the wine as a peace offering to share. “Not eating Italian tonight?” He should have expected her to say something saucy – she was on the defensive. “Strano’s is closed.” It sounded even more final when he said it. All of a sudden Jack was ravenous. Wine would not satisfy him tonight. Shakespeare had known Phryne before he had ever met her. “Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.”


End file.
